


Past to Present

by tagriel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Christmas, Crushes, Gen, Paternal Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9257951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagriel/pseuds/tagriel
Summary: Harry with a teacher crush, Remus with a paternal side, and the both of them dealing with the pain that is Sirius Black.(Not quite the way things go in the books, but would take place around chapters 10 and 11 of PoA.)





	1. Remus

Harry came by more and more often as the weeks went on, slowly dropping the guises for why he visited and simply letting it be. Remus never minded; in fact, he looked forward to their chats and their tea. He was fond of Harry, of course, and was still amazed he was getting the chance to get to know him after all these years.

It started off strange but nice to be around him. It was almost like being with his friends again. Harry had Lily’s passion, determination, and kindness, something Remus would not have faulted Harry for repressing after growing up with those horrible muggles. Harry had James’s charm and wit, and certainly his knack for trouble that as a professor made Remus sigh, but as a friend pleased him to no end.

Remus also saw, inexplicably and unnervingly, some of Sirius in him. His fierce love for his friends, popularity and brains, to be sure. But he brushed these thoughts sharply away. After all, those were traits they all had possessed. It was just more of James and Lily, not Sirius.  

And of course, Harry looked just like his parents. In the beginning of the term, catching Harry's messy dark hair out of the corner of his eye would make Remus’s stomach lurch in a way that left him shaken for too long after.

It got easier as the boy began to become a regular figure in Remus’s day. As he took on a role of his own, Remus began to recognize all the ways that Harry was truly and purely _Harry_ , not an unsettling reincarnation of his parents and the friends who had raised him for the first year of his life.

But unfortunately, he was still endlessly reminded of the losses he had suffered. He recognized Harry the baby in Harry the boy and was brought back to the nights he or Sirius or both of them would babysit. A year of such complicated, fond memories. The moments where he knew he loved his little family with all his heart could not be rewritten by Sirius’s betrayal. He could still remember how it felt to laugh with Sirius, to feel his fingers ruffle or card through his hair, feel how his stomach would swoop at the unexpected sight of him rosy-cheeked and windswept at the door, and Merlin, how he had loved him. If he thought about it hard enough, immersed himself deeply-enough in these memories, he could almost forget how it had all ended. What Sirius had done… and, the agony was back.

Best not to think.

“Er—Professor?”

Remus jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice, the sight of his mop of hair and bright eyes peeking around his door. “Yes—Harry, come in. I’m afraid you’ve caught me daydreaming.”

“Are you getting sick again?” Harry took a seat in his usual chair and greeted the little Grindylow in the corner tank.

“A little,” Remus said, and he rose to fix them each a cup of tea. “But I’m afraid mine is the sort of illness that never truly go away. Just sort of… muffles itself for a while in between bouts.”

Harry didn’t look pitying, which Remus always appreciated. Just vaguely uncomfortable, which was understandable. “How are classes, Harry?”

He listened to the boy work his way through his schedule, updating Remus on what he was learning, what he was enjoying. Harry could be quite talkative if encouraged. Remus had a feeling Harry rarely had conversations with adults that were so banal as schoolwork, especially nowadays. It seemed everything took a turn for the dark and heavy when Harry was involved.

Carrying the tea across his office, Remus set Harry’s mug in front of him, his hand resting on Harry’s shoulder in a moment of paternal affection. Harry stammered slightly mid-sentence and Remus could see a blush flare on his cheek. He winced inwardly and pulled his hand back—he usually made it a point to not touch people unnecessarily, for their comfort mostly.

“Er, thanks,” Harry mumbled, grabbing the tea and drinking quickly.

Though Remus loved the opportunity to meet the boy that had been the baby he had so loved, it was easy to forget Remus was hardly more than a professor to Harry.

They’re silent for a while, not awkward, just quiet, before Harry seems to burst. “He betrayed my parents, didn’t he?”

It took half a second before Remus’s heart plummets. It was clear Harry already knew—no point in evading the answer. But how much he knew, Remus wasn’t sure.

“Yes, Harry,” he whispered.

Harry stared resolutely at his desk, knuckles white as he gripped the cup. “And no one told me. No one told me he’s my—and he was at their wedding.” His voice cracks on the last word and Remus feels such a wave of sadness and affection for this kid that his own throat chokes up.

“Yes,” he says again. “They were so genuinely happy that day. Your parents especially, but Black too. He—well. It’s difficult to say what Black was thinking, even then. But it _was_ a lovely day.”

“You were there?” Harry met his eyes finally. “I didn’t see you in the picture. But I didn’t really look at anything else, after.”

Remus nodded, trying to smile. “Yes, I stood by your father, too. He and Lily were so beautiful together. Even though they were young, nobody there would have doubted their commitment to each other.”

He studied Harry’s expression, which suddenly looked hungry and entranced by the talk of his parents. “They were quite wise, both of your parents. They knew what was coming, and what they wanted for each other. It was unsurprising they married so young.”

“Well, they didn’t know _all_ of what was coming, did they,” Harry said tonelessly, and Remus kicked himself internally.  

“None of us did,” he whispered after a pause.

“It would have hurt you too, didn’t it? Black’s betrayal?” Harry asked. “Not just because—because they died?”

Remus nodded slowly and drank to buy time. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. Did Harry want to hear more? Happy stories, of course, but talking about Sirius this way—there was no way it didn’t hurt. But as a professor he had a general policy of honesty when possible, after a lifetime of closing most of himself off. Perhaps this was okay.

“Yes,” he admitted, inhaling sharply. “We were close. Not as close _during_ school, where he and your father were latched at the hip, but after graduation, especially. Black and I were roommates for a while once your parents moved in together. And of course, the war—easy to live in each other’s pockets during such a time. And helping care for you, of course—we were better babysitters as a team.”

Harry was staring at him with an indecipherable expression on his face, quite guarded.

Remus snorted a bitter laugh. “And yet, in between all that he had the time to—for secrets. To this day I can’t quite believe I never even suspected. Goes to show his level of depravity, I suppose.”

Harry still wasn’t looking away, not even blinking, and Remus started to regret speaking so much. Professors do not unload emotionally on students, no matter how many babyhood tantrums had been tamed between them. But it had been a while since he had spoken about this.

“I’m sorry.” Remus shook himself. “I know it’s not easy to hear. And I imagine it’s all you do hear about, isn’t it? Black this, Black that.”

Harry shook his head quickly. “No, it’s—I want to hear. No one talks about it, not around me at least. Think I’m too fragile, I reckon.”

“You could never be considered fragile, Harry,” Remus said. “But people worry. You have an amazing amount of people looking out for you. Nobody wants to be the one to add to your burdens. It was a betrayal, we can leave it at that. Now, how is—”

“I have a right to be mad,” Harry continued without acknowledging Remus’s offer of an ‘out.’ “Ron and Hermione and Ron’s mum and dad—everyone wants me to just... accept it, sit tight, be _smart_ about it all but—how can you not be mad? How are _you_ not ready to find him and just—“ he began to tap his foot, agitated, and Remus scooted his chair closer on protective instinct.

“Harry, of course I’m mad. I was furious, and—and heart-broken, and it took me years to be able to think about it without losing my mind.” He rubbed his eyes. “The trial was a comfort, and knowing he was locked away, suffering, was… satisfying. But you have to know, Harry, nothing about this is simple or easy for me. Especially now with him…out. You are not alone in your anger towards Black. And certainly not alone in your sadness either.”

He treaded carefully here. Thirteen-year-old boys were not wont to admit being sad. Anger was easy, anger was powerful, but sadness stripped the power right out of you. He watched Harry watch his tea determinedly, but Remus could see from here the way the liquid trembled as he started to shake.

Alright then. Change the subject? Comfort him? Merlin, emotional liberty had never been his strong suit.

In the end Harry made the decision for him, putting the tea down firmly on his desk, mumbling a thank you, and leaving the office looking a million miles away.

The tea sat there for a while, growing colder.

 

 

The next time he heard a knock at his door, a week later and just before Christmas, Remus was ready. He had thought guiltily and endlessly about his and Harry’s last conversation, kicking himself for making this harder on the boy, and for adding fuel to his anger. Harry’s fuse was short and dangerous when mixed with his recklessness. The last thing any of them needed was Harry running off on a vigilante mission.

“Happy Christmas, Professor!” Harry said, looking nothing like the upset teen he had last seen. Remus immediately felt relieved.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” His voice was weak and gravelly and he knew he looked like hell. Days away, now… “There’s nothing quite like Hogwarts at Christmas, is there?”

Harry smiled. “Best I’ve known, yeah. I’m staying here over holiday.” (Remus hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t) “Ron and Hermione, too. We’ve got work to do to help Hagrid. You heard about Buckbeak?”

“Yes,” Remus said solemnly. “I’ve seen my share of malicious creatures, and that hippogriff is the furthest from it. But, as the Ministry sees fit—”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s what we’re working on. Hermione’s got our Wizarding Law reading schedule assigned for break. There’s _got_ to be a way out of it.”

Remus smiled, less so in optimism for the hippogriff and more for pride in his students. Never let it be said young people were apathetic. He opened his mouth to respond when Harry suddenly continued, very quickly, as if afraid he would lose steam if he stopped.

“Anyways, we’re headed down to Hagrid’s now to update him but I wanted to stop by now just in case, if you were leaving or something for Christmas, well I got this—it’s Christmas and all, so I just thought—“ he was rummaging rather wildly in his bag and pulled out a small, wrapped package with tangled string and a cheery, decorative charm on the plain paper. “Just as a—y’know. Thank you, sort of, for—and Christmas. Happy Christmas, and all.”

He stuck the present out with both hands and Remus was too stunned to react for a moment before he hastily took it. “Harry, this is very kind of you.” Then, a gamble—“Thinking of your professors at Christmas. Exactly the sort of thing your mother would have done.”

Harry looked torn between pleased and proud and uncomfortable and he looked at his shoes. He was blushing now, and Remus had a hard time trying not to smile at this display. “Yeah, well, I mean—You’re not a professor anyways. I mean you are, but. Y’know. ‘S not like I got Snape anything.” (Remus huffed a laugh at the thought.) “So, well.” Harry seemed to calm suddenly and looked Remus in the eye, taking a breath. “Thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome, Harry,” Remus said softly. Harry looked very young in that moment, but for his eyes, which always seemed decades older. “I hope you can have a peaceful holiday, yes?”

“You too,” Harry said, but looked amusedly doubtful at the odds of that.

Remus nodded in thanks, but had to agree.

Harry stammered a good-bye and took off, and Remus was touched by his obvious embarrassment.

He thought suddenly of the first present Harry had ‘given’ Remus, a memory he forgot he had. James and Lily had gifted Remus a charmed shoulder rag in their son’s name, which stayed dry no matter how often an infant drooled on it. One of them had charmed a small wolf onto the corner. Sirius had gotten one too, with a dog in the same place, and Peter, one with a rat. And then-- well. There hadn't been a second Christmas.

This gift was a box of enchanted chocolates, each one a different flavor and shaped like a different creature. Remus smiled at the wolf-shaped one, and found a satisfying irony later that night when he used it to chase away the taste of his Wolfsbane.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first thing I've written ever p much. I've always loved the thought of Harry having an admiration crush on Remus (which he is forever embarrassed by as he gets older). Hopefully Remus does not come off as creepy-- simply caring about the kid he thought he'd lost.
> 
> Comments/Kudos would be wonderful! I've never been on this end of things before!


	2. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry faces his greatest battle yet: choosing a Christmas gift.

Harry wasn’t very proud of the way he had left Lupin, storming off like that. It wasn’t Lupin he was mad at, not at all. In fact, Lupin had been the only one to speak to him so honestly about Sirius Black. But Harry just couldn’t stop picturing it.

Black, laughing with Lupin alongside his parents at their wedding. Black living with Lupin, maybe bothering him by not keeping the bathroom tidy, or leaving dishes in the sink. Black _babysitting_ Harry, with Lupin as backup… the thought made his stomach roll.

Shaky legs led Harry down varying corridors, aimless. He didn’t want to go back to Gryffindor tower, didn’t want to speak with Ron and Hermione. He knew their opinions on all of this. His second refuge would ordinarily be Lupin’s office, which was of course not an option. He decided to go to the owlery. Hedwig never required conversation, but was an excellent listener should the opportunity arise.

The long walk there gave him time to stew and to think. A stupid part of him wanted to go back to Lupin sometime soon and keep talking, keep hearing his stories about his parents, and Harry’s infanthood. He had seen something on Lupin’s face beside the usual kindness or tiredness. He had looked purely happy as he spoke about Black, and about their time during the way. In the seconds before he had resorted back to distress, Lupin had looked like he was remembering the best time of his life. Then, of course, decades-old fury.

Harry hated himself for dragging that sort of complicated emotion back into Lupin’s life. The love he had obviously had for James and Lily was one thing, and Harry couldn’t imagine having to deal with the betrayal on the level Lupin had, by what seemed to be his best friend. He thought distantly about Ron—if Ron ever—his brain couldn’t even wrap itself around that idea.

He found Hedwig high towards the ceiling, and he wound his way up the stairs to see her. The soft, silky feathers at the back of her neck glided across his fingertips as he petted her, always rather soothing. Her eyes closed after a greeting chirp, and his neck-rub seemed to lull her into a doze.

“Maybe I should apologize to Lupin,” he wondered aloud to her. “I can’t decide if he likes talking about the past or not; I’ve just never gotten to hear about my parents like that before.”

He was whispering now, not even wanting the other owls to eavesdrop. “But I don’t want him to not want me around anymore, if I keep upsetting him.”

He saw Lupin multiple times a week, for class or passing in the corridors, but going to his office always made Harry heart tighten rather happily. He didn’t want to lose that and could certainly do with simpler topics of discussion if that’s what it took. He liked Lupin’s tea—a strange blend usually, but it was always calming that made his mind nicely quiet. He liked his office, always so interesting and homey, not always like the cold clutter of some professors’. And leaving the office always gave Harry a strange energy for the rest of the day, like he could conquer anything.

He liked most of his professors, and some could be nice to talk to, but it was something about Lupin specifically. He felt his ears go a bit red and scratched awkwardly at his nose. He looked at Hedwig to find her yellow eyes fixed on him, not looking fooled one bit.

“It’s cool that he knew my parents, is all. It’s just nice to know he knew them,” he told her somewhat defensively. She nipped her beak softly at his ear until he smiled.

“Here,” Harry said, rummaging in his bag until he found the treats he usually kept at the bottom for an impromptu visit to his feathered friend. “A warm-up for all the Christmas treats I got you.”

He let her nibble it from his palm and had a sudden thought. What if he got Lupin something? A Christmas present, or an apology present, or even just a thank you for… something.

 

“Thought you did all your shopping already,” Ron said when Harry mentioned going into a few gift shops. It was Harry’s second ever trip to Hogsmeade, and the last Hogsmeade trip before Christmas. It was now or never if he wanted to pick something up for Lupin.

“Forgot someone,” Harry said from under the Invisibility Cloak. “I’ll just duck in here, if you want to keep going?” He hoped they would.

“Nah, ‘s cold out here anyways,” Ron said, and he and Hermione led him into the store, making sure to swing the door open wide enough for Harry to slip through.

It wasn’t too busy that Harry couldn’t maneuver in between the other customers, but busy enough for no one to pay too much attention to them. He quickly slipped away from Ron and Hermione and perused for a while in peace. There were quills and books, nice goblets and hats. He wanted something sort of…nice. Not necessarily ‘nice’ like expensive, but something that would make him happy. Something… comforting for Lupin, who always seemed ragged and who was no doubt stressed about Black, too. But he had no possible idea what this ‘something’ would be.

Scarves, gloves, chocolates, candles, none of them were _good_.

“That you?” Harry saw Ron asking a display of history books in the opposite corner, clearly thinking that’s where Harry was (the breeze of the doorway rustled their pages every so often). Harry snorted at his friend and crossed the store towards him.

“I’m here, yeah.”

“Almost done?” Ron asked. Hermione popped up at his other elbow and Harry began to feel anxious. How long had they been here?

“No, I— Look, why don’t you get us a table at Rosmerta’s, yeah?” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll be a long in a bit.”

Ron shrugged and looked out the shop window. “Now’s a good break in the snow anyways, looks like. C’mon, Hermione!”

“You go ahead Ron. I know you want your alone time with Rosmerta.” Hermione smirked and Harry felt unfairly frustrated with her. “I’ll come along with Harry so he can get out of here okay.”

Ron shrugged again and ducked out the door and Harry pretended to be extremely interested in the array of bookmarks. If he was quiet enough she would think he had walked away. Why didn’t she just leave, he didn’t need—

“Harry, do you need help?” Hermione asked lightly, fully aware he was still beside her. Her voice was pleasant but he was immensely grateful for the Cloak.

“Er—no, I’m just—trying to decide.” He finally looked up and saw she was smiling patiently. It made him pause. If _Ron_ found out, Harry felt he would melt away in embarrassment on the spot. But Hermione…

“Maybe,” he amended.

“Who’s it for?” she turned and began to study the bookmarks too.

Her expression was still kind and weirdly gentle, encouraging even. He felt his face begin to heat up. How had he gotten in this situation?

“Just—it’s nothing. But it’s for Professor Lupin, alright?”

He braced himself. Her smile changed slightly, but it was no less kind or understanding. “That’s a wonderful idea, Harry,” she said, sounding fond.

Harry grunted in frustration. “Except there’s nothing in this whole _store_.”

“You’re overthinking it,” Hermione murmured. “It’s Lupin we’re talking about. He loves it already and doesn’t even know it.”

Harry grinned. “I suppose. I just want something that will be, y’know. Reassuring?” It came out a weak question and he regretted it the moment he said the word, but Hermione seemed to understand.

“Yes, he could use that,” she agreed. “My mum always said there’s nothing like comfort food. In moderation, of course, but perhaps--” she turned toward the shelves of biscuit tins.

Harry thought suddenly of the night they had all met Lupin, and the dementor. Harry had felt ghastly afterwards, until Lupin had passed out the chocolate. He knew it was the healing power of the food that had made him feel instantly better, but looking back on the memory the happiness in his stomach seemed to be Lupin-related as well.

“Chocolate, maybe?” Harry saw a good-sized box rattling around on the counter. It was filled with chocolate beasts of all shapes and sizes, enchanted so they chased each other around the box and wrestled and played.

Decision made.

 

Later that night, after Hermione had bought the gift in his stead and (Harry hoped to goodness) forgotten about the whole affair, Harry wrapped the gift the best he could behind the curtains of his bed. He kept trying to remind himself what Hermione said—Lupin would like it no matter what, it didn’t have to be perfect.

Except it _did_ and the stupid string that he was trying to charm into fancy curls kept getting tangled. It was stupid, the whole thing was stupid, and he was a knot away from tossing the whole mess from the tower window when he finally seemed to make it work.

He wanted to back out again the next morning when the moment came, but told himself he was being stupid. If he could pull Godric Gryffindor’s bloody sword from the bloody hat he could just as well deliver a Christmas present.

He had no real excuse for sneaking away from Ron and Hermione before their trip to Hagrid’s, so he confessed as much as he dared and said he wanted to stop and say good-bye to Lupin before too long into the break, in case he was leaving. Ron didn’t seem to think anything of it and assumed they would all be going.

“Yeah, good idea,” Ron said. “Bloke could use some holiday cheer. Lemme get a sweater on first.”

“Actually Ron, why don’t you help me decide what books to bring to Hagrid’s?” Hermione said as Harry felt his ears heat up at the thought of his friends coming. “That way we can get organized when we tell Hagrid all the good news we’ve found about Buckbeak.”

Ron looked at her strangely—Hermione never needed help with books—but seemed to catch on to _something_ if not the fact that Harry wanted to sneakily deliver his agonizing Christmas present to the professor he thought about way too often.

“Alright then,” Ron said. “Meet you down there Harry?”

“Yep.” Harry took off to grab his bag, present nestled in the bottom. 

Hermione smiled.

 

Walking to Lupin’s office felt markedly different than it had on his way out last time. He had by no means accepted Black’s betrayal, but the misery inside him about it had calmed somewhat over the past few days. He thought about what Lupin said about being comforted by the trial and the knowledge that Black was being punished.

That comfort was gone now, of course. But Harry was more determined than ever that Black would be caught, somehow. The sickening sadness or rage he usually felt when he thought about Black began to turn into a determination instead.

He couldn’t hide forever.

In the meantime, he hurried to Lupin’s office to deliver the chocolates before the little sugar creatures tore each other apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry & Hermione's friendship and Ron's obliviousness keeps me young.


End file.
